


Sweet, Dark

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Post-Finale, Pretentious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5889916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short introspective piece, where Angel thinks of Wesley's fate as he gears up for the series finale battle. Just a bit of a writing exercise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet, Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I found this, with a time stamp of 2014, on my computer, titled "Sweet, Dark (not going anywhere)". So, I decided to post it, rather than it just sitting on my hard drive. It's probably a little pretentious, but I was probably in a bit of a *mood* when I wrote it.

The blood is sweet, and the soul is dark. Once, it was *light* and *good* but erosion sneaks up on light and good and leaves them dark and broken. 

Like a hot blade through butter, or a sharp knife through flesh and trachea. Oh, it came in stages, but it snuck up on him, that defining moment. The sky fell, and there was no building it back. 

His fault? Could have paid better attention, sure, but you don't *see* the things kept hidden. Secrets and lies and prophecies that shutter and shade until a good, light soul is left to shudder and slide. It's slow and secret, and then suddenly you can't figure out how you didn't *see* it.

Mistakes were made.

Mistakes were paid for. In blood, and gasping, mewling terror. In the fake feathers of a hospital pillow. In segregation, shunning, silence.

In despair.

And then, back to joy. It had an edge, but it was joy. When Connor came back, it was joy. The hows and whys and whats weren't important for an instant. Then shots and stakes and – it didn't matter, he was back, and the rage, the pain, the horror ebbed. Seeds of forgiveness worming in like silver tendrils. Not full, no, because there was still the lie, but the sting was soothed. 

New betrayal then. In the water, pretending he couldn't understand why, but knowing full goddamned *well* why. Not just stories of evil, not just influence, not just training – but Connor's own sense of betrayal. Not just about Holtz – sure, that was part of it, but Connor had been *gone*. For years. And no one came for him. Angel didn't come for him. 

Angel didn't come for a lot of people. 

But then the blood. Angel hadn't come for Wes, either – when Wes was laying in a park, of all things, life seeping into the dirt, but Wes didn't hold that against him. Other stuff, yeah, but Angel kind of thought Wes knew he deserved to feel alone and lost and scared for a while. Call it vengeance, call it karma, he'd still taken Angel's *son* and while Angel might have managed to get past it he couldn't say Wes would have felt *justified*. Punishment, redemption – that's how the world works. Angel's world, anyway.

But still, the blood. Sweet. Dark, yeah, but sweet. Like cloves and copper, like salt and earth and *life*, whether anyone deserved it or not. 

Broken. But not *broken*. 

Slowly back in. Out of necessity – petty stuff out of the way. Not-so-petty stuff out of the way. But the apocalypse... well, the apocalypse brings warriors together. Aren't they all Champions, after all? Champions fuck up, too. 

*Years* of Champions fucking up.

And in the end, it shouldn't have been Wes. Shouldn't have been Wes that finally, *finally* found his redemption, or a part of it, or at least a reward for the year-and-change of misery, even if he didn't remember how bad it got, and have it ripped away. Left with only a shell. Shell of Fred, shell of himself. 

And that's really what killed him.

Angel should have seen it coming. Too proud, too good, too brave to die in a bottle. But yeah, the goddamn wizard Angel knew he couldn't handle? He could handle that.

Champions fall. 

Wesley fell.

Once, Angel had wanted that. Wanted all his pain and rage and loss to swallow Wesley whole, take him *out* of the world in breathless suffering. Revenge held a sweet promise. 

But no. Forgiveness was sweeter. Saved the world, even – Wes found the way to beat Jasmine. Can't do that if you're dead.

Now, though...

The world wasn't dark, but it was a little dimmer. Three Champions down, but a battle to the end that didn't end. Three Champions left, and a shell with a hell of a left hook. 

Made for a good show.


End file.
